Making out and making up girl style
by AcromantulaBitch
Summary: Santana is more than okay with Brittnay making out with all the guys in school, but when she decides she might like to try some of the other girls... Spoilers for 'Laryngitis'. Santana/Brittnay


**Okay so yeah. This is my first Santana/Brittany fic, done for hs_bingo on livejournal for the prompt square 'making out'. I'm not sure I'm tottaly satisfied w/ it but I seriously just couldn't look at it anymore lol. **

**Also, I have gone back and fixed the spelling of Brittany's name. Apparently it's Brittany, not Brittney or Brittnay. I should have figured that out when I did the character selections for this story, but I didn't. Someone on livejournal pointed out that it should be an 'a'. So I went back and changed it to Brittnay. And then later realized that it was supposed to be Brittany and had to change it again. Yay me. **

The thing about Brittany is that she doesn't really understand much of anything that is said to her or that she reads. She's severely dyslexic, and on top of that she has ADHD.

Brittany often says that she doesn't even know what dyslexia is.

Santana often says that it's a good thing she's so beautiful or her parents would have shipped her off to Dutch boarding school a long time ago.

She doesn't mean it though.

The other thing about Brittany is that while she can't make sense of anything she reads, she understands emotions very well, and can respond to them. Which is something Santana has never been good at.

But she's also very physically oriented. It makes her an excellent Cheerleader and dancer. It also makes her _extremely_ good at sex, but that's beside the point. They once had to take those 'What Kind of Learner Are You?' tests, and apparently if you could teach math by dancing it, or presenting it in a musical format or something, Brittnay could be a math genius. Who knew.

"Um. Santana?"

Santana looked up from her locker at the freshman that was for some inconceivable reason, bothering her. "What?"

"...um."

"What."

"Coach Sylvester wanted me to tell Brittany something."

Santana glared. "Do you see Brittany here?"

"Um. No?"

"Get out of here."

Santana glared at the retreating figure but was privately pleased that people just assumed that she and Brittany would be together. For that matter where _was _she anyway? Santana scanned the hallway without seeing her and sighed. She had better not have gotten stuck in her car again.

She had just decided to skip lunch to go find her, it wasn't like she was going to eat anything anyway, when she spotted her coming down the hallway with the gay kid. They were holding hands, which didn't really bother her, especially seeing as how whats-his-name wasn't even really interested in girls and was obviously just having some sort of personal crisis. It was actually pretty funny.

But regardless of the humor of the situation, humor that much to Santana's amusement, Brittany had missed completely, Gay Child was not going to actually interrupt Santana's routine. And part of that routine involved walking to lunch with Brittany.

Santana waited impatiently for them to get to her so she could scare the show-tunes loving fairy away and get back to her life, but they were intercepted by an old guy in an ugly outfit. She rolled her eyes and prepared to walk over there when Brittany broke away from them and headed her way.

"Finally." Santana muttered under her breath.

"Hi San!"

"Hey Britt. Ready for lunch?" She offered her pinkie and smiled a little when it was accepted. They started down the hall.

"Sure. Hey, San?"

"Yeah?"

"I think Kurt might be adopted."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Why's that?"

Brittany made a face that caused a little line to appear between her eyebrows. Santana resisted the urge to smooth it out with her fingers. "Because...even though they're really the same now, they must have been really different before. You know?"

Not really. "Yeah."

"...Do you know what I think?"

Santana smiled. "No, what?"

"I think that Kurt might not actually be straight."

No shit. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Because he kept talking about boys while we were making out. So...I think maybe he was just pretending to make his Dad happy, but I don't think it worked because he didn't seem very happy when we were talking to him over there."

"Kurt's dad?"

"No, Kurt. I don't think his dad really cares either way."

And that was the other thing about Brittany. She's confused at first, but she always gets it eventually, and when she gets it, she really gets it.

"Yeah, well. That awesome for him and all, but lets talk about something else now. I'm bored."

"Um. Oh. Hey San guess what?"

"What Britt?"

"I think I have a perfect record now."

Santana gave her a slanted look as she sat down at her usual spot at the Cheerio's table. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I've made out with every guy in the school now since I did it with Kurt last night."

She considered this. "Britt...you didn't..have sex with Kurt did you?"

Brittany blinked at her and took a drink out of her Cheerios thermos. "No."

"Oh good. Because he probably has some weird gay disease and you need to be healthy if we're going to be co-captains together."

Brittany smiled at her and shook her head and Santana smiled back. She reached over and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. No one blinked. That was the awesome thing about being a girl really. She and Britnay could be as obviously into each other as they wanted and no one batted an eye because they could also just be doing what friends do. It almost made her feel bad for Kurt. Almost.

"Hey can I sit here?" Santana didn't bother looking up.

"No."

"But...the entire rest of the table is free."

Santana turned to glare at the idiot and he skittered away like a bug. It was Greg Something, a Cheerio Ms. Sylvester only kept on the squad because he was one of the few people in the school who could do a triple back-flip and cheer at the same time. Nobody really liked him.

Something awful occurred to her suddenly. "B. When you say every guy, you don't mean _every guy_ do you?"

Brittany considered this for a moment. "No. I don't think so. Only the guys who count."

"So not the jewfro or that guy with the aviator hat."

"No."

"Well, good."

"So San, guess what?"

"What?"

"I think I'm going to try to make out with every girl in the school now, you know, so that I can have a perfect-_perfect_ record."

She frowned. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hey, San look at that bird!"

Santana turned her head, but she wasn't really looking as Brittany chattered about how it had stolen someone's fries, she was still stuck on her new plan. And really, what would she gain by making out with all the girls in school anyway? How would that be helpful? It wouldn't. Well, actually, it might improve her rep, but that wasn't the point. The point was-

"San?"

Santana looked back and glared. "What?"

Brittany blinked. "Um. Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Come on. We'll be late for math."

"But we never _go_ to math San."

Santana threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll go by myself then. Excuse me for wanting to learn something about Algebra."

"...It's Geometry."

Santana glared at her and walked away, vaguely aware of Brittany following her to her locker and then to what was hopefully the right class room.

She made a couple of losers move so they could sit in the back and glared up at the blackboard as Mr. What's-his-face began talking about some math thing she didn't care about.

She could feel Brittany's eyes on her and felt vindicated somehow that Brittany was just a miserable as her right then. And really, Santana didn't know why she was this mad. They both made out with people all the time. Hell, they both had sex with other people all the time. Except that those people were pretty much always boys. But why should that make so much difference?

She glowered down at her desk and saw Brittany's hand come into her peripheral vision with a note. She ignored it in favor of opening her book, which turned out to be her American History book but that wasn't the point.

Brittany reached out again to push the note into the middle of her desk. Santana had had enough. She slammed the book on the desk, prompting the teacher to glance over to their corner but provoking no other reaction, and picked up the note while shooting a glare at Brittany's confused face.

The note was on a folded-up piece of note-book paper with a heart drawn on the front of it. Santana felt the urge to smile at the innocence of it even though she was so mad, but resisted. She unfolded and read it.

_Hey S 3_

Santana couldn't help smiling and rolling her eyes at the same time over that one. God, Brittany.

**Hi, B.**

She handed the paper back and went back to the Civil War, watching Brittany respond and put the note back on her desk in her side vision.

_Hi, why r u mad at me? Im sorry. :(_

Ugh. See, now she felt bad! Damn it all.

**I'm not mad at you. **Not anymore at least.

_Yes you are. _

Santana didn't know how to respond so she didn't. After a while, Brittany just took the note back herself.

_I wont make out w other girls if u dont want me 2_

She frowned. **I wasn't mad about that. You can make out w/ whoever you want.**

_Yes u are. And I dont want 2 make out w anyone else if it bothers u_

Santana stared at the note for a long time without responding. Eventually, Brittany huffed and reached across her desk to take it back again, but she waved her off. She just wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to say.

**I don't think I like the idea of you kissing girls.**

_But u r a girl?_

**Girls other than me.**

She stared resolutely at the front of the room, her face burning. She almost looked over when she heard a weird crinkling sound, but didn't. The paper appeared on her desk again. She picked it up.

_Well ok then 333 I guess u will b the only girl I make out w. _Next to the words was a smeared kiss mark the color of Brittany's lip-stick.

Santana smirked down at it and finally looked over at Brittany, who was smiling at her. The bell rang as class ended.

As they left the room, Brittany offered Santana her pinkie, and Santana took it. They walked down the hall together.

"Hey S?"

"Yeah, B?"

"Wanna go make out?"

Santana smirked at her. "Sure B."


End file.
